


Ezra

by MisMiz (Jaaaaack51)



Series: Perchance to Dream [4]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Daydream Believers, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-15
Updated: 2000-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5005258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaaaaack51/pseuds/MisMiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When good dreams go bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ezra

Life was good. How could it not be when you were richer than Bill Gates? Richer than anyone, as a matter of fact? And let's not forget suave, handsome, and debonair. Yes. Life was good. 

Ezra Standish glanced down at the blonde in his bed. One who bore a striking resemblance to Mary Travis, star reporter. Probably because she **was** Mary Travis. Buying her controlling stock in the leading town newspaper had been an inspired notion. One that Chris Larabee had not approved of at all. Sour grapes on his part, Ezra was sure. What could his butler possibly offer a woman like Mary that he couldn't offer better? And more of? 

Ezra rose from the king sized bed and slipped on a robe. Padding barefoot over to the French doors leading out onto the balcony, he stared out across the rooftops of the neighboring Bel Air residences. It looked like it would be a typical bright, sunny day. Moving to Southern California had been another inspired notion on his part. No more snow. No more mountains. Just beaches and shops and the idle rich wherever you looked. Had he mentioned that life was good?

Of course, the others were not quite as pleased with things. But then they were not nearly as rich. Or as charming. But that was hardly his fault. If he had a nickel for every time Chris muttered about there being no place to park or Buck whined that it wasn't anything like Baywatch out here or Vin complained that the city's population of ten million was 9,999,999 too many. (There was that one old waitress at Denny's that the sharpshooter had made an exception for. Nettie or something like that) Well, let's just say that if he had a nickel for every time, then he would be the richest man in the world. But wait. He already was the richest man in the world. Ah yes. Life was indeed good. Superlative, even. Magnificent. He could go on, but never let it be said that Ezra Standish would be so gauche as to gloat. At least not in public.

He frowned thoughtfully as he turned away from the doors and meandered across the sinfully soft carpeting. Mary was still sleeping and he had learned not to bother her in the morning. No amount of money in the world could buy that woman a good mood unless she'd received her full eight hours of beauty sleep. Perhaps he would see if Buck had finished cleaning the pool and then he could go for a swim.

Ezra shook his head as he thought yet again of the rather motley assortment of household help he had. Uncouth louts with their penchants for Denney's and pickups and reality TV and any number of other things that they seemed to intrude upon him incessantly. Maybe he should start making plans to acquire new help? Something to think about, anyway.

He came to a stop in front of a large mirror hanging on the far wall of the room, next to the walk in closet. It was a work of art. Rumored to belong to Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII's doomed queen, it had cost him a pretty penny. 

In appearance the mirror had always reminded him of the one from Snow White. The one the wicked queen used. Perhaps that was why he smiled suddenly and, with a flourish, asked.

"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who is the richest one of all?" 

"That would no longer be you. You're in a bit of a jam.  
But that's what you get for trying to cheat Uncle Sam."

Ezra was considerably startled, and not at all pleased, to find that Chris Larabee and the other five men comprising his household help had entered the room and were standing there watching him.

"Shouldn't you be off polishing the silver, Mr. Larabee?" Ezra drawled sarcastically, trying to cover his growing feeling of dismay. 

"Did I forget to tell you? I found another job." Chris Larabee folded his arms and smiled. That never boded well.

"Well, what about the pool, Mr. Wilmington? I trust it is finished?" Ezra felt in desperate need of reassurance that his life was still good.

"Nope. Got me a job at the same place Chris did." Buck's grin threatened to take over his face.

"Vin. What are they talking about?" Ezra turned to the quiet man leaning against the wall.

"Aint for me to say. But you're gonna have to find someone else to prune them roses of yours."

"Josiah?" Ezra turned to his chauffeur.

"I've taken real nice care of your cars Ez, but just as birds must fly and bees must sting, so must the rich be made poor." This made about as much sense as any of Josiah's utterances. Which was to say, none at all.

"Nathan?" Ezra appealed to his chef. He at least usually made sense, even if he did have a rather tedious tendency to lecture him on his dietary habits.

Nathan's eyes gleamed with amusement. "I couldn't let them have all the fun. Sorry, Ezra. But I've cooked your last meal."

"WHAT are you people talking about?" Ezra's exasperated shout woke Mary who glowered in their direction and then sat up with a flounce.

"They're talking about how you cheated on your income taxes and now the government is going to take all your money so you won't be needing a butler or a gardener or a pool guy or a chauffeur or a chef or a personal assistant. Oh yeah. And how we all got jobs working for the IRS." JD said this all in one breath. 

"My newspaper!" Mary's screech caused them all to jump slightly.

"It's ok, Mary. Your newspaper is safe. I made sure of that." Chris smiled smugly as Ezra glared at him.

Mary flew out of bed and threw herself into Chris's arms.

"My hero." 

"Maaaaaaary!" Ezra protested, but his former mistress didn't even spare him a glance.

"This is preposterous. I've been framed. I shall consult my lawyers and..."  
  
Ezra's tirade cut off in midstream as two burly men came into the room and began carrying off the furnishings. 

"Wait. That's a Queen Anne chair. And an original Monet. You vile cretins! Be careful with that! Come back here!"

Life was not good for one Ezra Standish. But it had improved dramatically for six former ATF agents who now worked for the IRS.  
*********************************  
"Ezra. Ezra. Wake up." JD Dunne shook the southerner's shoulder a bit harder and did his best to dodge the flailing limbs.

"Mr. Dunne?" Ezra's green eyes stared wildly around the room. 

"Who were you expecting?" JD asked crossly, rubbing his arm where he hadn't managed to avoid Ezra's fist.

Ezra shook his head but didn't reply. God. What a horrible dream. And it had started out so promising. He felt as if he'd been robbed. Gipped. Cheated. If one was going to dream about being rich, it was only fair that one be allowed to enjoy it.

"Did you have some purpose in mind or were you merely awakening me for your own amusement?" he asked JD acerbically. He was still feeling rather miffed about the way the dream had ended.

"You got a phone call. Sam somebody from the IRS." JD glared at the other man, still rubbing his arm.

"Ezra? Ezra? Are you ok? You look awful pale all of a sudden."

The End


End file.
